


'Cause that boy took my heart/And I ain't want it back

by Darlinxx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Chair Bondage, Chair Sex, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Era, Lazy Sex, Library Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Morning Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shameless Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darlinxx/pseuds/Darlinxx
Summary: “Do you think you can be quiet this time?” he asks, and those red eyes are bright with mischief and humor in equal measure. Harry will never understand the people who call this man emotionless; clearly they haven’t seen him like this.Then again, Harry has a vested interest in making sure no one else sees Tom like this ever again.[OR  a collection of PWPs. You've been warned :P]
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 34
Kudos: 292





	1. Library Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Public Sex, Hogwarts Era, Library Sex, Anal Sex, Implied switching

“Shh,” Tom breathes against his mouth, and Harry swallows the whimper that wants to escape, burying his face in Tom’s shoulder as he sinks down the rest of the way. His hands clench hard, tangled in dark hair, but Tom’s hands don’t waver on his hips, pulling him back up.

The slick slide sounds obscenely loud in the hush of the library, and Harry gasps from the shocks of sensation and the shiver that wracks him. He clenches down, and Tom hisses, low and muffled, and gets a hand on the back of his neck, jerking his head up and into a kiss. Their mouths collide, and Harry makes a sound that’s trapped halfway between a laugh and a moan as he slides down the long shaft that pushes up into him so perfectly. Slowly, teasingly, he rocks his hips in careful circles, tugging on Tom’s hair just enough to make him break the kiss.

“Shh,” he teases, and Tom presses a chuckle against his cheek, rocking up.

“Do you think you can be quiet this time?” he asks, and those red eyes are bright with mischief and humor in equal measure. Harry will never understand the people who call this man emotionless; clearly they haven’t seen him like this.

Then again, Harry has a vested interest in making sure no one _else_ sees Tom like this ever again.

“Can you?” he gasps, slides up and rocks back down hard, clenching his muscles. The muffled groan Tom gives is massively gratifying, as is the aborted lurch of his hips that Harry rides with a quiet laugh.

“Imp,” Tom says breathlessly, and Harry kisses all trace of the word off his lips. There’s a hand on his cock, an exquisite drag that’s almost too rough, and he cries out into Tom’s mouth, thrusting up into the touch. Tom urges him on, thrusts with him, and his cock drives deep, drags over nerves that are bright-hot with pleasure. Harry is breathless with it, burning, desperate; he moves faster, caught between Tom’s hand and mouth and cock, can't get enough of any of them, and Tom kisses back just as desperately.

One more tight, deliberate stroke, a thumb pressed hard beneath the flared head, and Harry can't bear it. He gasps, bites down on Tom’s lip as he comes, pleasure vibrating through him. Tom gasps, trembling with his release, and a cry escapes him, hoarse and shattered. Harry laughs through the aftershocks, pressing his cheek to Tom’s temple and kissing the sweaty dark hair.

“You owe me,” Harry murmurs, and Tom strokes his back, fingers lingering on his skin in a fond sweep.

“You won,” he says, and gives Harry a smirk. “So how do you want me next?”

Harry chuckles, kisses him light and lazy before he pulls back. “Mm, bent over the fireplace on the common room,” he says breathlessly.

“As you wish,” Tom says, and kisses him back with an edge of teeth behind his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am "planning" to make this a multi-chaptered fic FULL of smut...are you up for that? Just put it in the comments so I'll know if anyone is interested :D
> 
> P.S. Tell me how was it!!! Is my writing atrocious? Passable? I am very open to criticisms :)


	2. Deepthroating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry thinks about how he’s going to sound tomorrow, how Tom’s going to have to listen to him talk and know exactly why he’s so hoarse, and smirks. A definite bonus, and Harry will take it—and Tom’s eventual loss of control—with desperate, devoted avarice and no hesitation at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Praise Kink, Deepthroating

“Can you take a little more?” Tom murmurs, and there's a whisper of something _else_ beneath the velvet of his voice, heady and heavy like the power that curls across his skin, and Harry shudders, moans. He tilts his head, tries to open his throat, takes more of that thick cock into his mouth and sucks desperately, wet and messy and graceless.

“So perfect,” Tom says, and a big hand strokes Harry's hair back from his face. The other twists, and Harry chokes on a cry as the four fingers inside him spread further. There's a chuckle, a light stroke to his cock, and it makes him gasp, almost choke. Harry has to pull off, take a breath before he determinedly gets his mouth around Tom’s cock again, slides forward until his lips are nearly to the hand he has wrapped around the base.

Tom rubs his hip in soothing strokes, presses his fingers deeper in Harry and curls them, and it makes Harry moan and go still, eye falling shut.

Above him, there's a breath of amusement, and Tom leans over him, strands of dark hair brushing Harry's face. “A little more,” he urges gently, and his free hand cups Harry's cheek, rubbing across it, feeling the hardness of his shaft beneath the thin skin. Harry makes a helpless sound, but breathes through his nose, presses forward, and pulls his hand away. Tom slides down his throat, and it takes effort not to gag but hHarry manages it, keeps going until his face is buried in wiry hair and the thick, blood-hot shaft is all the way down his throat.

There's a bitten-off groan, a tremble in the muscled thighs Harry is curled over. “Amazing,” Tom breathes, rough, and that wild edge is back in his voice, makes Harry swallow around his cock as a hand strokes his hair. “You’re so perfect, so amazing, Harry.”

Harry whimpers, cock rock hard and weeping. It twitches against his stomach at the praise, makes him close his eyes to bear the bolt of pleasure that ricochets down his spine.

Tom laughs a little, warm and happy, and carefully guides Harry back up. “Good, that’s more than enough. Come up here.”

The thick head slides across his tongue, then his lips, smearing them with beads of precome, and Harry takes a rasping breath, moans. Rocks back on Tom’s fingers as they spread again, and tilts his head up when he sees Tom leaning in. The kiss is gentle, deep, and heat slides through all of Harry's nerve endings, pools hot and overwhelming in his stomach.

“Tom,” he rasps as they separate, and he can hear Tom’s breath catch. Instantly, that clever mouth is back on his, and Tom drives his fingers in all the way, makes Harry cry out against his lips, ragged and hoarse.

“The way you _sound,_ ” Tom breathes, and his eyes are wide and dark and full of heat. Harry shivers, bites his lip and curls his fingers around Tom’s slick cock.

“Do you want to come down my throat?” Harry asks, doesn’t try to hide the roughness of his voice. _Wants it_ , because he finally took all of Tom this way and it feels _good_.

“Anything you want, Harry,” Tom says immediately, and that smile is so _kind_ , so gentle even with desire behind it that it makes Harry shiver again, spreads heat through his limbs and down his spine. Tom drags the pad of his thumb across Harry's lips, and Harry catches it in his teeth, pulls it into his mouth to wrap his tongue around it. The answering moan is entirely gratifying.

“But if you’re offering,” Tom gets out, “I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

“I'm not offering, I'm _asking_ ,” Harry corrects, breathes in and fights down his blush as he presses his cheek against Tom’s thing. Opens his eye and looks up at the man, and asks as steadily as he’s able, “Please.”

Tom’s breath shakes on the exhale. Leaning in, he kisses Harry deeply, tilting his head back to take his mouth with something like fervor, and slides his fingers out of him. The frisson across his nerves makes Harry twitch and moan, and Tom makes a hungry sound against his lips, tangles their tongues and drags Harry up. “You’re sure?” he asks breathlessly, slanting a kiss across the corner of Harry's mouth.

“Absolutely,” Harry breathes in return, and slides down Tom’s chest. Tom’s hands guide him right to his cock, and Harry casts a quick look up through his lashes as he closes his mouth around the head. Those dark eyes are watching him, steady above the flush that’s rising in Tom’s cheeks, and Harry wants to see him _wrecked_.

He gets his hands on Tom’s thighs, lean in. Takes Tom into his mouth, savoring the weight on his tongue, the sharpness, the press of Tom’s hands in his hair. Swallows him down, still looking at that handsome face, and gets to watch Tom fall apart.

Harry thinks about how he’s going to sound tomorrow, how Tom’s going to have to listen to him talk and know _exactly_ why he’s so hoarse, and smirks. A definite bonus, and Harry will take it—and Tom’s eventual loss of control—with desperate, devoted avarice and no hesitation at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still interested? (please say YES HAHAHAHA). Reading your comments would surely encourage me to write more! <3 
> 
> With love,  
> Darlinxx


	3. Overstimulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One more time,” Tom breathes in his ear, ragged, and Harry sobs and takes the thrust that sets every nerve in his body buzzing. He can take one more orgasm. 
> 
> He can take as many as Tom wants to wring out of him, and he’ll drown happily in every one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Overstimulation, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Implied age difference

Harry digs his fingers into the mattress with a strangled cry, and only barely manages to hold himself together.

Right against his skin, there’s a low hum, full of heady amusement, and a kiss is pressed between his shoulders as the fingers inside him twist and drive deep. “So quiet,” Tom says, and the light scrape of teeth across the muscles of his back makes Harry choke on a breath. “No more noises for me, Harry?”

The deliberate scrape of knuckles inside him makes Harry shudder, gritting his teeth and burying his face in the mattress. “Bastard,” he manages, a breathless jolt of a word, and chokes out a groan when the four fingers in him spread wide. He’s come so many times that the electric buzz is almost painful, twisting through his gut light lightning, and he gasps for breath, grip going white-knuckled.

Tom snorts, pressing a kiss to the spot his teeth just grazed. “Not the sounds I was thinking of,” he says, perfectly dry, and the slow drag of his fingers retreating drives a desperate whine from Harry’s throat as he’s left empty. He rocks back, tries to keep them inside, but Tom curls over his back like a heavy weight, and the press of his cock sliding between Harry’s legs makes him shiver. The pressure on his soft cock is painful, and he bites down hard on his lip as Tom thrusts lazily between his thighs.

“I think I'm ready for another round,” Tom says, and Harry moans, ragged and rough in his throat.

“ _Please_ ,” he manages, and Tom clicks his tongue.

“Aren’t you sore?” he asks, more taunt than honest question with that smug note in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Harry laughs, strangled against the blankets, because Tom has been so fucking careful all night, so gentle, so slow that Harry wants to tear his throat out with his _teeth_. “Afraid you can't come again?” he asks, casting a sly look at Tom. “I hear that happens with age.”

A hand around his soft cock makes him yelp, makes him squirm. Tom strokes him lightly, but it’s like fire curling up through Harry’s gut, and he twists in Tom’s grip and _shakes_ , high, sharp noises wrung from his throat.

“Too much?” Tom murmurs in his ear, and this isn't a tease.

Harry forces his fuzzy brain to gather the words, dredging them up from the depths they’ve been banished to, and groans. “Only if you don’t fuck me soon,” he gets out.

“I suppose I can,” Tom says judiciously. The bastard sounds perfectly composed, even as the head of his cock bumps Harry’s hole. Harry shoves back, trying to take it, but Tom’s weight forces him down, and he holds Harry still with his hands on Harry’s elbows, pinning him flat to the mattress.

“None of that,” Tom murmurs, a light kiss touching the back of Harry’s neck. Harry makes a sound of protest, but then the press of the thick head finally pushes in, and he loses his complaint on a hiss. He’s so oversensitive that it burns, that even as stretched as he is Tom’s cock feels massive and _hot_ , and Harry gasps out a sob, twists and jerks and moans with every inch of Tom he takes.

By the time Tom’s hips settle flush against his ass, Harry is shaking, tearing at the sheets with breathless, desperate sounds. There’s no way to adjust to the huge, aching intrusion, and he wants more, wants Tom to pound him into the mattress and keep going until he comes again, soft and spent and _wrecked_.

“One more time,” Tom breathes in his ear, ragged, and Harry sobs and takes the thrust that sets every nerve in his body buzzing. He can take one more orgasm. 

He can take as many as Tom wants to wring out of him, and he’ll drown happily in every one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make things clear: the chapters are unrelated and told in a non-linear manner. I really just wrote smut pieces out of thin air without any semblance of a plot :P I've also put up tags at the beginning notes just to give you an idea before diving in :)
> 
> So did you like it? Should I continue this madness HAHAHAHAHA


	4. Bondage//Chair sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why don’t you come for me?” Harry asks, sliding his hands down Tom's sides, riding his cock in short, slow thrusts and enjoying the burn of it, the perfect angle of the stretch. “Come on, Tom, don’t you want to fill me up?”
> 
> Tom cries out, breathy, broken, and shoves up, can't move even an inch. Falls back against the chair, twisting, gasping, and Harry laughs, riding the twitch of his hips, making his strokes longer, deeper, and it’s perfect, the heat curling, bursting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Bondage, Chair sex, Anal sex, Oral sex, Orgasm denial, a power bottom Harry and a thirsty af Tom

Harry is enjoying this a hell of a lot more than he thought he would, and he had high expectations going in.

“You're shaking,” he breathes against Tom's cheek, just for the whimper it gets him. Curls his arm back and around Tom's neck just as he slides himself down on Tom's long, pretty cock with a groan, and sinks all the way to the base in a rippling clench of muscles that makes Tom twitch and sob and jerk. Tom can't get leverage, tied too tightly, wrapped up in ropes, and Harry would laugh if he had the breath for it. Harry pulls himself up instead, one thigh hooked over the arm of the chair, the other braced on the rung beneath the seat, and it’s the perfect amount of leverage to ride Tom's cock in long, tauntingly slow rolls of his hips.

“Harry,” Tom groans in his ear, almost a whine, and that fine tremor in his muscles, in the graceful arch of his body, is the prettiest thing Harry has seen in a very long time. Harry breathes out, sinks down again and rocks in a slow, teasing circle, enjoying the press of Tom's cock against his inner muscles, the sparks of pleasure that scatter like fireworks up his spine and burst in his stomach.

“Mm?” Harry presses his lips to Tom's cheek, a messy, openmouthed kiss, and watches through heavy-lidded eyes as Tom's expression twists, halfway between pain and pleasure, entirely breathless, as he squirms against the ropes. “Was there something you wanted, Tom?”

Tom _whimpers_ , and his eyes when they flutter open are dazed, desperate. Tom strains, head falling back, the arch of his throat bare and vulnerable as he whines. “Please, I want—”

Harry lifts up, pulls off Tom's cock until only the head is still inside him, then eases back down in a long, slow slide that ripples heat through him like a landslide, and feels the desperate jerk of Tom's body under him, the painful hardness of his shaft as he clamps down on it. Harry can't quite catch his breath, either, but Tom is so much fun to tease that he can't stop yet.

“You want to fuck me?” Harry asks, breathless, rising again. Shoves back hard, just once, and Tom shouts, spine arching. Harry has to take a second, shivering through the burn of nerves and heat and _want_ that knock the breath right out of him. “I think you’re doing a pretty good job so far, Tom.”

Tom's laugh is a strangled, reckless thing, and he’s practically vibrating with tension between Harry’s thighs. Harry can feel his heartbeat, pounding against Harry’s back with hummingbird speed. “Gods, Harry, _please_ ,” he _begs_ , and Tom in the grip of lust has no shame, no reservations, no hesitations. Harry could listen to him beg for _days_. “Just—give me more, I _can't_ —”

 _Can't come like this, everything too slow._ Just enough to keep Tom on edge. It’s entirely deliberate, and Harry laughs, clenches down on Tom's cock and slides up it, moaning, then loosens his muscles and drops back down. Shivers at the impact, like he can feel Tom's dick in his gut, so deep, and has to breathe through the pressure of it for a moment.

“We agreed on sex all day,” Harry teases, knotting his fingers in sweaty curls. “It’s not even halfway through the morning yet.”

Tom whimpers, squirms, and it’s pressure in all the right places, sparking across Harry’s prostate and making him gasp. He rocks forward, slides back, and the slow, slick slide is everything he’s been craving for days now. This is perfect, heat and invasion and the pain-pleasure stretch of that shaft inside Harry, the tremble of Tom's body against his and the soft, desperate sounds Tom makes when Harry moves even more slowly just to tease him.

“Why don’t you come for me?” Harry asks, sliding his hands down Tom's sides, riding his cock in short, slow thrusts and enjoying the burn of it, the perfect angle of the stretch. “Come on, Tom, don’t you want to fill me up?”

Tom cries out, breathy, broken, and shoves up, can't move even an inch. Falls back against the chair, twisting, gasping, and Harry laughs, riding the twitch of his hips, making his strokes longer, deeper, and it’s perfect, the heat curling, _bursting_. He moans, muscles winding tighter, sinks all the way back on Tom's shaft and grinds into it, voice breaking as the pleasure shatters through him, shakes to his bones. Harry comes across his own thighs, on his chest, and leans there in the sparking aftershocks, sitting on Tom's painfully hard cock.

“Fuck,” Tom breathes, high, desperate, and Harry hums lazily. He shifts, rolls his hips back to feel the stretch through nerves that shiver with oversensitivity, and then pushes up, pulls off. Tom cries out as Harry gets off his cock, jerking, wrenching at the ropes, and Harry laughs. He stumbles a step, muscles humming with the aftermath of pleasure, and then turns, sliding gracefully to his knees between Tom's spread thighs. His shaft is slick with lube, and Harry wraps a hand around it, seals his mouth over the head and watches as Tom shakes under his touch.

This is so much fun, and they still have the rest of the day to go. He hums, swallows Tom's cock down, and wants to smile at Tom’s desperate cry.

They're definitely going to have to do this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make Tom a little too OC with all that whimpering and begging that he did? :P (I am not sorry btw HAHAHA)


	5. Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Easy,” Tom says again, sharper this time, and the hand leaves Harry's cock, making him whimper at the sudden absence. Tom’s fingers curl around the back of his neck instead, and he says, “You’re being good, Harry. You’re so good, it’s so fun watching you fall apart for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Sex Toys, Teasing, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Dom/sub Undertones

Harry's breaths feel too loud in the quiet of the room, like they’re coming too fast. It’s like he’s panting, like he can't get enough air, and it makes his head spin. His whole body is shaking, overheated, burning up from the inside, and he has to catch himself on the edge of the sink and lean there, gasping for air, acutely, exquisitely, awfully aware of every inch of his skin.

Behind him, a page turns, crinkling, and there's a quiet hum.

Harry wants to whimper, wants to beg. Wants to sink to the floor and crawl to Tom’s feet and unzip his pants with his teeth. Harry’s so close, though—there are only a few dishes left, a pan, and he only has to keep standing for another few minutes.

With that thought at the forefront, he grits his teeth, swallows. Pushes upright, and—

The thing inside him buzzes hard, twice as hard at _least_ as it did before, and Harry almost sobs, his knees buckling as lightning splinters across each nerve ending, harsh, almost painful pleasure clawing up through him with jagged teeth. He only just manages to catch himself before he hits the floor, clings to the edge of the sink as his whole world narrows to the vibrations washing through him, the stretch of the thing that feels like it’s working its way deeper into him with every pulse.

Harry’s going to cry out. Everything inside of him is _hot_ , too much to bear, and he tries to fight his way through it but the vibrator is pushed snugly up against his prostate, deliberately positioned, and he can't get away from it. There are stars swimming behind his eyes, bursts of white light that usually mean he’s about to come and then pass out, but he _can't_. Tom is right behind him, reading his book, and Harry is slick inside, every inner muscle clamped down around the vibrator even though that only makes it _worse_.

_ Finish the dishes _ , Harry thinks, through a haze. Fixes it in his mind, like it’s a mission, and gasps out a breath as he hooks an elbow over the counter. Slowly, swallowing the broken, desperate sound that wants to break free of his throat, he hauls himself up, gets one leg under him. Inside him, the vibrator shifts, suddenly sparking across entirely new nerves, and Harry whimpers, almost lets go, but—he’s almost there. Almost done. Just a few more dishes.

The sponge slips out of his hand the first time Harry reaches for it, then again the second time. On his third try he finally catches it, leaning heavily against the sink and trying to see straight through the shivery, almost painful shocks washing through him. Carefully, deliberately, he catches the edge of a glass, scrubs it with a few quick strokes, and rinses it, trying not to drop it as his hands shake. He _aches_ , sweet and hot and deep in the pit of his stomach, and only one thing can possibly help.

Abruptly, completely, the vibrations stop. Harry whimpers, clenching down on the toy, but it’s still inside him. Too little after too much, and he swallows a sob, grabs desperately for the last plate and scrubs at it blindly. The ache is sharper, fiercer, curling through his whole body until his fingers tremble, and he still can't catch his breath.

Another page turns, and Tom stretches his legs out, crosses them at the ankle. Harry doesn’t look back, but he can feel a heavy gaze on his back, deliberate and expectant.

The pan comes clean easily, and Harry is so glad he could cry. Rinses it, sets it in the rack, and pulls the plug from the sink before he carefully dries his hands.

Tom hums lazily, and asks, “Done already?”

Harry laughs, breathless, and turns. Tom isn't even looking at him, attention fixed on his book, but Harry crosses the space between them with a feeling like relief, or maybe release. He stumbles on the last step as the toy buzzes, a low-level pulse inside him that’s enough to make his breath hitch, but he doesn’t even try to catch himself, drops gratefully to his knees at Tom’s feet and grabs his leg. There's no reaction, but the vibrator kicks up, buzzes harder, and Harry moans. He curls forward, pressing his face into Tom’s thigh, and whines, low and shaky.

A hand settles in his hair, stroking his sweaty curls out of his face. Tom’s fingers are cool against his flushed cheeks, and Harry lets out a sound of relief, shifting up on his knees. The buzz inside of him is low enough that he can breathe through it, even if he can't quite think, but—

Tom’s hand is on him. He doesn’t need to think right now.

There's a pause, and then the back of Tom’s hand caresses his cheek. “All the chores are done?” Tom asks, like he wasn’t sitting here _watching_ the whole time, turning the vibrator up higher every time he thought Harry was looking a little too coherent.

“Yes,” Harry says, half-strangled. “All of them.”

“Good,” Tom says, and it feels like a blow, like it resonates inside Harry's chest. He breathes out a low sound, and Tom laughs, faintly rough. A hand catches Harry's elbow, tugging gently, and Harry rises with it, lets Tom pull him up and forward, right into his lap. Arms wrap around him, and Tom noses into his collarbone, kisses the racing pulse in his throat.

“You’re so sweet for me, aren’t you, Harry?” he asks softly, and Harry squirms in his grip, his skin too hot, too tight. The tightness of Tom’s grip and the rasp in his throat are the only tells that he’s affected, but the hard curve of his cock presses up underneath Harry's bare ass, hot even through the fabric of his pants. Harry digs his fingers into Tom’s shoulders, wants to grind back against it but controls himself with a moan, and Tom kisses the underside of his jaw, just barely scraping the skin with sharp teeth.

“I've been trying,” Harry manages around the edges of a laugh. “I've been trying, I swear—”

“Shh.” Tom tugs his head down, kisses the words out of his mouth, slow and sweet. His other hand slides down Harry's sweat-slick back, heavy and possessive, and fingers trace down to where the vibrator’s string disappears into Harry's body. He tugs lightly, and Harry gasps, jerks. The hand in his hair just pulls him into another kiss, though, and Tom steals the sound from his lips, pulls him an inch closer. This near Harry can feel how hard Tom’s breathing, the way he swallows hard, and it’s a relief, makes Harry breathe out a shuddering moan as a finger dips into him, pushing the vibrator deeper. The slide of it is smooth, but it’s still buzzing gently, makes Harry's stomach turn over as it sends shocks rippling through his body.

“Easy,” Tom says gently, fingers tightening slightly in Harry's hair. Nowhere near enough to hurt, and Harry is glad; this is soft, gentle, easing him down off a ledge, and he whines into Tom’s mouth but goes still, letting Tom push the toy as deep as his finger will go. It’s unstretched muscle, tight, and the it feels far bigger in him, the vibrations sharper, harder to bear. Harry wants to squirm, wants to grind back against the gentle rub of Tom’s finger across his walls. Wants it so badly his thighs are shaking with the effort of staying where he is, and he wraps his arms around Tom’s neck, clinging desperately.

The hand in his hair loosens, slides down his chest with that same possessive slowness, mapping the familiar territory of Harry's body until a loose fist closes around his cock. Harry jerks, losing his breath on a cry, but Tom hums gently, strokes him with slow, careful twists of his hand even as he pulls at the vibrator again. It slides down, slick and easy, and two of Tom’s fingers slide in on either side of it. Groaning at the stretch, Harry rocks back into it just a little, then gasps and wrenches up when it presses hard and deliberate against his prostate.

“Easy,” Tom says again, sharper this time, and the hand leaves Harry's cock, making him whimper at the sudden absence. Tom’s fingers curl around the back of his neck instead, and he says, “You’re being good, Harry. You’re so good, it’s so fun watching you fall apart for me.”

Harry breathes out, almost a sob, and tries desperately not to move as the vibrator slides back over his prostate. His vision swims, and he can't bear the nearly-painful heat that washes through his gut and climbs his spine.

“I don’t— _ah,_ I don’t think that’s dirty talk,” he says, winded, and Tom laughs against his cheek.

“But it’s true,” he says. “You’re so sweet, Harry, so pretty when you’re about to come.”

Harry whimpers, hides his burning face in Tom’s hair.  _ I think I- _ , he starts to think, but it fractures a second later as the vibrator speeds up, even harder than before. Tom presses it right against his prostate, and a shout tears from Harry’s throat as his vision goes white under the force of the pleasure. _Heat_ and _burn_ and it has _claws_ , digging into the core of him, wrenching the pleasure up and out of him.

And then the buzz dies back down to nothing, and Harry really does sob, tears at Tom’s shirt and gasps out a denial even as hands settle on his hips. Tom tips him over, pushes him down onto the couch, fingers still inside him, and then a hot, wet mouth slides over Harry’s cock, takes him in with a moan. Harry cries out, hips bucking helplessly, and Tom takes it, opens his throat and swallows his cock to the hilt. With a wail, Harry fists his hands in his own hair, tries not to thrust up into that greedy mouth as Tom’s throat flutters around him, but he’s been holding back so long already. He shoves up, and Tom groans, slick lips stretched around the base of Harry's cock, fingers driving into him hard. The toy slides over his prostate, and Harry knows what’s coming but he doesn’t even have time to brace himself before it turns on again, vibrations crashing through his nerves.

He can't even get enough air to make a sound. Arches, every muscle pulling taut, mouth open even though his shout is trapped in his throat. Tom pins his hips, swallows around his cock, and Harry's orgasm shakes through him, blinding, painful in its intensity. He can't pull in a breath, can't do anything except ride out the burning pulse of it, pure heat in every inch of him, lightning splintering through his veins until he’s shaking, dizzy with it, and Tom is moaning around his cock, pulling off, mouth red, a trickle of white escaping as he swallows.

“Good boy,” he says, dark gaze wicked, and Harry whimpers as the vibrator finally, _finally_ turns off. Gentle hands part his thighs, tug at the string, and Harry doesn’t even have the energy to clench down as the toy slides all the way out of him. He just moans, and a moment later Tom is covering him, pressing his mouth to Harry's in a lazy sloppy kiss that tastes of his come.

Tom’s still hard, trapped cock pressing against Harry's thigh, and Harry spreads his legs as best he can, tips his hips up. Tom’s breath catches, eyes going wide, and he makes a hoarse sound wrenched up from his chest. His fingers scramble at his zipper, and Harry laughs breathlessly at him, even as he shoves his pants down, grabs Harry's thighs and drags one of his legs up over his shoulder.

There's a shaky breath against his lips, a hard cock at his hole, and Tom sinks into him, a low cry breaking from him. His mouth slants over Harry's as he leans in, pressing Harry's leg up against his chest, and it’s prickling, hot-sharp-sweet oversensitivity that hooks in Harry's gut. He’s never quite sure that he likes the feeling, except he never wants it to stop, either, and Tom doesn’t pause. He drives into Harry's body with desperate, uncoordinated thrusts, kisses him open-mouthed and messy and doesn’t let up even when Harry whimpers and squirms. Keeps fucking him, and each thrust is hard, shatters through Harry's nerves until he’s almost crying with it, body hot and _used_ and—

A low, guttural groan and Tom slides into him as deep as he’ll go, hips hitching once, twice, again. The wet heat of his release fills Harry, makes him moan, and Tom lets go of his leg, falls on top of him in a gangly sprawl that still manages to cover Harry completely. He wraps Harry up in his arms and then goes still with a ragged breath, hot against Harry's throat.

“You're the _best_ ,” he mutters into Harry's skin, shivering, dazed, and Harry laughs. He wraps his arms around Tom in return, tips his head back against the cushions, and right now his whole world is the weight of Tom on top of him, the stretch of his cock inside of him, the pace of his heart against Harry's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY DID IT TURN INTO FLUFF BY THE END I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN IT HAHAHAHAHAHA ;P


	6. Morning sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing in the world would make Harry too sore for this. He slides his leg back over Tom’s thigh, shifts to make that long, lovely cock slide up his crack, and says, “Like I would ever turn down morning sex, even if you did pound me last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Morning sex, Lazy sex, Mentioned switching, slight Praise kink, blowjob

There's a hard cock nestled between his legs and soft lips on the back of his neck, and Harry groans, catching the hand splayed over his stomach and lacing their fingers.

“Good morning to you too,” he gasps, and Tom hums into his shoulder.

“Good morning,” he returns, laying a kiss below Harry's ear. The arm beneath him tightens, pulling Harry back against a hard chest, and Tom hums, gently stroking his side. “Are you too sore?”

Nothing in the world would make Harry too sore for this. He slides his leg back over Tom’s thigh, shifts to make that long, lovely cock slide up his crack, and says, “Like I would ever turn down morning sex, even if you did pound me last night.”

Tom chuckles, even as he hitches his hips forward. The wide head presses, pushes, and Harry shudders as his body gives way, opening up for Tom’s shaft as it slides deep. Tom’s arms tighten around him, and the slow, gentle rock of his hips drags a moan out of Harry's mouth.

“You say that like you didn’t pound me right back,” Tom says in his ear, and that tone is low and filthy and makes Harry's stomach turn over with want. Or maybe that’s the image from last night that Tom’s words call up—Tom on his back, legs over Harry's shoulders and body a silken vise around Harry's cock, absolutely wrecked by Harry inside of him. Harry moans, pressing back into the long, slick slide of that shaft, and it’s hot but a slow heat, pooling in his stomach and creeping up his spine in inches.

Tom’s thrusts are long and lazy, bottoming out and drawing back and slowly, slowly sliding home again. Most times Harry would squirm, try to take control of the rhythm and make it harder, faster, but there's early morning sunlight spilling over the bed and all of Tom’s muscles are loose, not drawn with tension. The gradually building heat unfurls through Harry, takes root along his spine and grows. Tom’s hands are tracing over his chest, settling little sparks of pleasure cascading through him, and there are lips on his shoulders, his jaw, his nape. Harry doesn’t bother to stop his voice, breathy soft sounds in the sunlight, curled together on their bed, and Tom holds him tightly, takes him but gives everything in return, and Harry loves him for it, deeply, desperately.

“Harry,” Tom rasps in his ear, heavy and rough, and Harry grips his hand harder, lets his muscles clamp down.

“Come on,” he urges, even though this isn’t enough for him. Tom never leaves him hanging for long. “Come on, gorgeous, just a little more.”

There's a gasp, a sound that might be his name. Tom slides all the way into him, so deep Harry feels like he’ll never forget the shape and weight of him, and comes with a helpless shudder.

Harry holds him through it, murmuring praise, but it only takes a moment before Tom is pulling back, slipping out of him and making Harry cry out. Strong hands catch his hips, roll him over onto his back, and then Tom is sprawling over his legs, swallowing his cock down. Harry's cock slides right down his throat, and the sudden blow of wet-tight-heat makes Harry yell and buck. Tom rides the motion easily, takes Harry to the base and swallows around him, and Harry's orgasm hits him like a blow, dragged out of him. His hands wrench at ebony black hair, his hips snap up, but Tom doesn’t move, swallows every last bit of Harry's release and pulls off slowly, like he’s savoring the slide across his tongue. He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat, and Harry hauls him up and into his arms, kisses him hard and rolls him over to sprawl out across his beautiful body.

“Very good morning,” he breathes as they separate, and Tom hums his agreement, pulling Harry down again.


End file.
